


The Stars Were Made For Falling

by Keyena (viixiie)



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: A lot of fluff around the heavy bits, AU where Angel really really likes snow, Angel hibernates when he's too cold, Aro-ace Alastor, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, But they also can't stop me because I can't read, Canon Compliant, Demons deserve to be soft, Depictions of consensual violence, Descriptions of depression/self hate, Dirty RadioDust shippers unite, Drug use/abuse mention, Fluff, Hell freezes over in winter, I respect those signs, I'll find a way I swear, It's Al what did you expect me to do, M/M, Masochism, One-Sided Sexual Relationship, Possibly sexless Alastor, Possibly trans Angel, Probably gonna be vague tentacle based erotica, Probably not angst?, Sadism, Some angst, Suicide mention but not graphic, There's winter in hell because I said so, Will update tags, depictions of mental illness, headcanon heavy, radiodust - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21558121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viixiie/pseuds/Keyena
Summary: Yuletime is a season of Hell freezing over, but for the folks at the Hazbin Hotel, it doesn't have to be all bad.Specifically, Charlie is determined to make the season as merry and bright as possible.Angel just likes to wander around in the pretty snow, but even that leads to some unexpected moments.Also, no one is used to Yule being a happy, gift-giving season, and everyone is getting a little soft about it.Also pt. 2, Niffty chooses potentially-lethal places to hang certain decorations.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 26
Kudos: 103





	1. A Gift Of The Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic about demons? Who would have guessed!  
> Yeah, I fell hard into the Hazbin huni-bun hole, so sue me. I really love this ship and I also really love the challenge of writing it while staying true to Al being so firmly aro-ace.  
> Many thanks to Gene, Em, Celeste, Alex, and Haze for being inspiration and throwing me ideas! I love you guys and I can't wait for future chapters, and for con with everyone!

A static'd cry of a wiry black bird echoed disjointedly across otherwise silent skies as it skimmed from tree to tree, its ragged wings seeming to strain to keep it in flight. It preened matte feathers with a crooked ivory beak, red eyes wild and aflame, and lit a chill up the spine of any who looked at them directly. 

The blankets of white, or rather, of pink-tinted cream that lay thickly across the ground and trees throughout hell seemed to muffle all sounds, which would be serene and calming if it weren't literally hell. Few could really claim to take solace in the miles upon miles of stretching silence, especially when it was either broken by disconcerting fauna like the birds, or far worse sounds of general carnage, somehow even eerier when met by soundlessness than when they were simply interspersed through daily ambience.

There was a thick forest of black pines close by the hotel that offered some means of solitude, even outside of winter, and though few may expect it, the thicket of towering trees was a lovely place for a certain spider demon to get some fresh air while avoiding prying eyes. It got tiring, keeping up appearances- either a good and improving pioneer of the hotel for Charlie and Vaggie, or a pay-per-view slut available to anyone he passed by with an open wallet. It grew tedious, keeping himself so clean or so available.

Not that he hated it, by any means. He despised being too terribly alone, really, and it was easy to avoid loneliness in a profession like that; he'd even considered dropping by with Travis to proposition him for the evening before deciding to take to the woods. It had been a while, and Travis was one of his more... respectful clients. He could actually claim to enjoy the time spent. Travis at least offered cuddles after, followed by a stiff drink that quite matched his more public persona. 

A far-distant scream rang up from over the hills, probably either followed or preceded by some kind of explosion that couldn't win out over the snow. Part of Angel itched to follow the sound, but he grumbled to himself about not wanting to hear it from Vaggie later. It wasn't quite in the direction that Cherri tended to vie over, either, which made it easier to let go. 

Snow crunched like sparrow bones under his feet, and he folded his lower arms across the small of his back while the others tugged a soft pink fur scarf higher around his face. His breath still puffed in the air, clouding out around him through the fluff. He watched little droplets of moisture form amongst the fur and crystallize in the icy air, making him smile. No one ever saw his soft wonder this time of year; it felt like the smallest, simplest of things just held so much beauty to him as soon as it got cold.

Snow was one of those unexplained treasures to him, and had been since he was little, and much more alive. He never really had a lot of time to enjoy it, or the family to go out and play in it like most kids did. Oddly enough, dying and winding up in hell, where snow was nuisance enough to people to still be occasionally present, turned out to be something of a blessing in that regard; he had all the time in the world to enjoy it.

Angel was distracted from his reminiscing quickly by the warm sparkling of red-tinted winter sunlight on the snow-laden branches around him- too distracted to recognize that he had come upon a second line of tracks in the snow, and was soon stepping perfectly overtop of them, before they sharply turned off and he wouldn't see them ahead if he ever turned his attention back to the winding path he was following.

"Hiding someone's tracks in the snow is you get a poor fellow lost, my good friend," a familiar and somewhat menacing voice called out nearby.

Angel whipped around with an expletive, chest heaving as he scanned the shadowy trees. The other demon let him panic for a second before he opened glowing eyes and emerged with unfair grace from between branches. He ignored Angel's glare, his smile soft and contented. Angel pretended not to notice the way Alastor shook snow from his form; head first, working down into a soft wiggle that traveled his body. Like an actual deer, the spider noted with a private smirk. He wouldn't dare make mention of it out loud. 

"I don't see no damn tracks," Angel Dust retorted, looking back behind him. He registered the messiness of his footprints prior to the hoofmarks that turned off in Alastor's direction and grinned sheepishly at the Radio Demon. "Well, I didn't."

Alastor waved him off with a dismissive hand. "No matter! I can find my way back with ease!" He did seem entirely confident there in the winding woods, so Angel didn't concern himself with directions. 

"What are you even doing all the way out here, anyway?" the white demon inquired instead. "I wouldn't think the Radio Demon would struggle to find time to himself." 

Alastor tilted his head slightly. His smile, of course, didn't waver in the slightest. "Am I so hard to tolerate?" The question didn't hold a tone of hurt or upset, but Angel balked anyway, stuttering over his reply. 

"W-wait, no, of course you're n- I just meant people seemed scared by ya. Y'know, big murder-broadcasts and all that." He'd expected that to have kind of been the goal- oh, but Alastor's eyes glinted in mischief, and Angel huffed, irate. "Oh, I see how it is, you just wanted to trip me up! Listen, bitch, that's fuckin' rude!" Four arms crossed over a poofed-out chest fluff as he glared at the red demon.

"Do accept my sincerest apologies."

Alright, what the hell. "Y-yeah, well... sure," Angel stammered. His brows knit together. "You seem more agreeable than usual."

Alastor's smile widened, but it was still pleasant. Angel noticed it hadn't seemed to reach its usual unsettling nature this entire time. Odd, but not unwelcome.

Even more odd, Alastor simply reached out to a branch near his head and ran long, slender fingers along the length of it, admiring the copper hue of the black needles where they peaked out from the snow. The careful scrutiny was alluring in a way Angel couldn't explain. It was rare that Alastor ever just stood to appreciate something. He was being pretty cryptic though, sneaking through the woods and being all nice. "I quite enjoy winter," he explained after a long pause, his attention returning to the spider. The deer held gazes with Angel for longer than he probably ever had before, leaving Angel with warm pinpricks under his fur, and then he let out a soft sigh and straightened his already-perfect jacket. "Well, sun will be low soon, Angel Dust," he remarked at random. "Best return to the hotel before you catch cold." 

Angel turned to follow the motion Alastor made with his mic, jolting as he was met with the hotel directly behind him and Alastor nowhere in sight. It was much darker around him than it was a second ago, too.

"Hey, what the- ugh. Fuckin weird." 

'Weird' it had been, but that didn't stop Angel from frequenting the woods a little more often, just in case he ran into that damned deer again. Alastor flip-flopped between being ever-present in the hotel and making himself scarce for weeks at a time, which was mildly infuriating. He had Alastor's weird behaviour on his mind above all else, and it was driving him nuts. Al usually wanted nothing to do with him; why didn't he just keep hidden until Angel passed? Why did he act so... soft?

Angel braved the cold a little later than usual on this particular weeknight, the setting sun already beginning to cast long, rosy rays over the ground, filtering between the trees in long stripes and spotty dapples. The demon was glad for his foresight in wearing a fur-lined duster and fleecy gloves to leave the hotel, as the temperature had dropped compared to the last few times he'd gone out. 

The silence didn't feel as permeating as usual tonight, but Angel couldn't place what was filling it. He wandered without much purpose, figuring that if he simply aimed to meander the woods, he'd run into his target much easier than he would while actually seeking him out. 

Both proved moot eventually though, as the woods fell into darkness with no sign of the Radio Demon. Angel paused on his walk, trailing fingers over a low branch absently, before letting out a sigh and using four arms to hoist himself onto the branch and slink along to its base, wiggling into a comfy position tucked into the tree. His coat was snuggly and warm, and he'd wandered far enough that the cold had caught up to him, and he was moving sluggish as he started getting sleepy. It would take absolute ages to get back at this point. He opted to just settle into this nice tree for the night, and wait to warm up some in the morning, where he could move faster. Perks of being a spider, he thought sarcastically.

Sometime in the night, Angel felt something rouse him. He slowly blinked his eyes open; it was pitch black, the white of the snow being the only reason there was contrast enough to see his surroundings. He was still perched where he'd fallen asleep, but he was tucked under a plush blanket- a red blanket. The spider shot upright, finding familiar ears tucked low against electric pink hair on the ground below. A single ear twitch was the only sign of life for a long moment. 

"You're here," Angel breathed incredulously, settling back against the tree with a mildly uncomfortable thud.

"You're awake," came the matter-of-fact reply that made the pornstar jump. "I hope I got to you before you caught your death." 

"Awe, ya do care!"

"I'm not a heartless monster, Angel Dust." 

Angel shifted, peering down at Alastor with a raised eyebrow. 

"...all the time." Alastor swiveled his head and winked up at the hotel patron, and Angel chose to gather up the blanket and drop to his feet rather than allow Alastor to see him get fidgety at such a simple expression.

"You could have rested," Alastor admonished lightly when Angel was smoothly back on the ground. It had snowed some while he slept; his tracks below the tree had softened with the thin new covering, and Alastor had a crown of white on the top of his head. 

Angel reached up without a thought to swipe it away, and Alastor, without taking a step, locked glowing eyes on Angel's hand and wrenched his head backward unsettlingly far, ducking and dodging every time Angel reached for him. "Dammit, fucker," Angel quipped, pursing his lips. "You're covered in snow and it looks dumb. Let me help." 

Alastor, for what it was worth, squinted between Angel and his still-extended hand, and then blinked, turning his ears back and offering his head in a slight, yet unbelievably graceful bow. Angel took in the sight for a second before acting, shocked that Alastor would actually allow himself to be touched.

The Radio Demon was quite touchy, on his own accord. He loved to take others' hands and dance with them, or pull faces right up against his own. Angel had even caught him draping himself across chairs or counters to be dramatic while talking to Charlie or Husk at the hotel. But hellish overlords forbid someone were to touch HIM without his express invitation; he recoiled as though you were acidic, his pupils threatening to become radio dials and a static filling the room until it was dizzying. Or at least, that had been Angel's experience. The deer was usually quite opposed to making contact with him.

Angel brushed the snow away quite quickly, and was pulling his hand away when... Alastor pushed his head forward?

No, no, the spider was imagining things.

_Nudge._

Alastor _stepped_ forward to follow Angel's hand, pressing damp hair into it before he could return it to his pocket. Confused, certainly, but also very amused, Angel acquiesed, first tentatively rubbing little circles into Alastor's hair and then growing bolder, running his fingers through it, hesitantly scratching at the base of long, fluffy ears. 

Alastor's eyes opened to unfocused, glowing radio dials, making Angel jump back with a muffled yelp and almost trip over himself in the dark. The glowing orbs- and the rest of Alastor's head- slowly turned to face Angel, and his torso followed in a disjointed sort of way before the demon slowly approached his companion; or, rather, his prey, which was way closer to what Angel felt like under that stare.

Great, just great. I'm gonna die in the middle of the woods, at some ungodly hour of the morning, terrified and horny, because I decided to PET the fuckin' RADIO DEMON. 

The deer blinked, his eyes suddenly completely normal and his smile nonchalant. He tilted his head at Angel's cowering form. "My bad, old sport! Seems I must have forgotten those pesky instincts for a moment. I'll be more aware nex-"

"I don't mind," Angel interjected softly.

"I beg your pardon, Angel Dust?"

"I don't mind. I mean. The.. the pets. If ya want more, I can... er.. help." He fidgeted. The confidence he had when he first spoke up was quickly waning under the unwavering gaze. Angel was really just glad Alastor hadn't taken his head yet.

Alastor let the silence linger until it became palpable. God, he was being extra cryptic tonight. It felt like several minutes had passed before the Radio Demon slowly slid his left leg behind the right and stretched it back, leaning down into a long curtsy that exposed his antlers to the spider once more.

Angel didn't for a second feel like this was an invitation or anything friendly. If anything, he felt like he was being commanded to serve the stronger demon, with something so mundane as pets to pamper him. 

Angel would be humiliated, if he weren't far more turned on. He hoped, for one of the first times in his life, that it wasn't that obvious. He'd genuinely come to take interest in Alastor. Affirmations of the deer's early disdain for him and his professional libido would just be a nuisance.

Alastor took a slow stride forward after a moment, head still bowed. He stepped into Angel's personal space and made a slow, sweeping circle around him, as if sizing him up. Angel felt himself shiver, trying to get himself to make eye contact and feel bold in the face of Alastor's scrutiny and definitely falling short.

"A-Al?" 

"You gave off a strange scent," Alastor explained. He spoke as though it were the most common thing in the world to simply announce. Angel felt himself redden under his fur. "I was simply curious."

"A scent? Well, this perfume is a Prada knockoff, I'm not surprised." He smirked, proud of his wit while he was practically shitting his fur. 

"A pleasant one. Sweet. Elderflower, and honey." Specific, but Angel would take it if Alastor was that pleased about it. Even if he'd just completely ignored him. "And..."

"And?"

The briefest static surrounded them, and Alastor's grin widened. "Spice. Like thrill. Or fear. A most becoming scent on you, my dear friend." His words were dark and held a growl to them Angel hadn't heard before. They met eyes, and in Alastor's squint it became clear that Alastor knew damn well the fear he could so easily cause- and _loved_ it. Angel swallowed thickly, feeling his heart skip a beat. He really was blurring the line between arousal and terror with this guy.

"Must be the Prada," he countered. His voice shook. He tried to ignore it.

Alastor's grin widened impossibly as he met Angel's retort with a stare. "Must be, indeed." 

Angel had never been more grateful for snowflakes than the moment that one fell on his eyelashes and made him scramble to brush it away, because it gave the nervous spider an excuse to break the predatory eye contact Alastor held him in and prompted the Radio Demon to ask if they should return to the hotel. 

"Homesick, Smiles?" 

"Actually, quite! I always start missing home this time of year. But, it's no matter! No time for sadness in a season like this!" His smile widened, and Angel suddenly felt fidgety. Mostly because only seconds before Alastor had looked like he'd just had the thought to hunt Angel for sport and seemed quite pleased with himself for it, but still. He didn't expect Alastor to actually GET homesick, especially not for his life before hell. Way to go, Angel Dust. 

"...right, yeah.. Anyway, if you wanna head back, go right ahead. I'll probably get there by sunrise or so. Cold slows us spiders down." He waved away Alastor's quirked eyebrow, but the Radio Demon wasn't so easily swayed.

...he wasn't so easily helpful, either, Angel realized, as suddenly he found himself frozen in a sort of tractor beam of neon green light in which Alastor began carrying him in the direction of the hotel. Great, he was never living this down. At least it wasn't the giant black tentacles the deer had used on that snake fuck. That would have been problematic for both of them, real fast.

Whatever, this weird Eldritch bullshit was warm and he didn't have to walk. He pondered if it were possible to nap while being tractor-beamed by a wendigo.

Alastor was nowhere near subtle when he- roughly, and without warning- released Angel to sprawl ungracefully on the snow outside the hotel doors, and then blasted them open with a flourish. The aesthetic of the proud murderous denizen beside the slowly unfurling heap of spider was undoubtedly a sight to behold, and be it fortunate or unfortunate, the only one present to see it was Husk- who slowly set down the bottle he'd had resting on his lips and the remaining couple of shots' worth of booze it held, took a full bottle off the shelf to his right, uncapped it with only a single, determined flick of his claws, and knocked back almost half of it in one go, maintaining his eye contact with Alastor all the way until he chugged. It was his standard greeting for both demons.

"Good to see you too, Husker!" Alastor's enthusiasm was met with only a snarl from the cat, but it didn't waver in the slightest. He no longer seemed to hold any concern for Angel as he strode into the hotel lobby. "You're up early, my good friend! Why, it's hardly daybreak! I never took you for an early bird type!" _Or early cat,_ Angel thought to himself. His smirk died when he realized that was Alastor-level humor, and he fought the urge to groan aloud.

"I wake up to drink myself back to sleep," Husk grumbled. He had a mostly-hidden pile of cushions that he'd stashed not-so-discreetly behind the bar; Angel had seen it, could confirm. He wouldn't, because Husk had already implied a threat to his life. But he _could._

Alastor let out a crackling laugh and patted Husk on the back with a near-crazed enthusiasm that made the cat snarl. Angel was finally lumbering into the lobby, sinking heavily against the counter when he eventually reached it. He swiped the bottle Husk had discarded, swirling his tongue lewdly around the mouth of it while downing the remnants when Husk shot him a tired glare. He heard a crackle of radio interference that made him feel smug, before Alastor announced he was retiring to his room, and in passing, suggested Angel sleep off the cold and booze as Charlie wanted them all together to make cookies by noon.

The spider grumbled something incomprehensible, and made sure to wait until Alastor had left before he obeyed.

"Oh, look, Strawberry! I found a deer!" 

Angel had sauntered into the kitchen a little later than the others, save for Husk, and was eyeing the first round of cookies that Charlie had been too impatient to wait for. She'd actually woken up quite shortly after the two had returned that morning, despite requesting everyone up by noon. Apparently she was just too excited to sleep.

"Yeah!! I tried to make ones for all of you guys! The deer is for Alastor, of course, and-"

Angel found Alastor's eyes across the island counter, slowly bringing the red-frosted cookie to his lips. Alastor gave him a warning squint, expecting him to begin miming terrible acts across the room; but Angel chose a more Alastor-themed route, snapping his jaws around the deer's head and crunching it off with a heavily misplaced wink. Alastor followed the action with rapt attention, and Angel could almost swear his ears pricked. 

Silence fell over the room. One could almost hear gazes flickering between the two demons after the implied threat from Angel, but Alastor's grin was slowly getting wider. 

"Look here, Angel Dust!" He didn't break eye contact right away, which was eerie as all hell. He reached out, slowly raising another cookie off the platter- a spider, delicately painted in all of Angel's rosy stripes. His eyes narrowed, locked on the mismatched gaze of the hotel's famous patron, as he put both hands on the cookie and smoothly, effortlessly, snapped it in half.

Angel was getting a little concerned with the amount of direct threats that just felt like foreplay anymore.

Charlie, meanwhile, stared at the now-incinerated cookie ashes that were being dropped from Alastor’s hands, some bits still glowing with the green flame he’d summoned from his palms. She watched them fall onto the counter, looking rather defeated.

“Chin up, Charlie dear!” Alastor’s voice jolted everyone in the room. He snapped his fingers, and the delicate spider cookie was right back in place where it had been before. Angel leapt to scoop it off the rack and cuddle it to his chest, almost pouting, and Charlie beamed.

“See! You’re not _all_ bad, Alastor! I knew it!” 

His chuckle was ominous as fuck. Angel tried not to think about it. 

The lobby was empty when the spider came down later that evening. He wasn’t sure where Charlie and Vaggie had run off to, and much less Alastor. A peek over the bar showed Husk curled up as expected, a bottle cuddled close to his chest and his wings sprawled out across the floor. Angel smiled privately, leaving him to his peace. He was genuinely pretty fond of the grumpy bartender by now.

He made a place for himself among some new cushions Niffty and Charlie had made together for the couch, stretching languidly over the arm with a muted groan. He hated how slow winter made him, even if he loved the beauty of the outdoors, and trying to fight his body had gotten too tiring to keep venturing outside. He was stuck inside, but it was still frigid enough to leave him feeling like a zombie.

A scrambling patter of feet spooked him after a long silence and he jumped, but it was only Niffty scampering down the staircase with arms absolutely overflowing with garlands, lights, and little ornaments.

“Real excited for Christmas, huh, Niff?” Angel called out, dropping his head back over the arm of the couch again. 

“Uh-huh! Finally, I get to decorate this place up as it should be! It’s gonna be… positively… glowing!!”

Well, shit. Angel cracked his eyes open at the end of her sentence to find lights already strung around half the room’s fixtures and garland framing every corner. Niffty was speed-humming some vague Yuletime carols, and the sound was finally enough to rouse Husker, who sat up with a lopsided Santa hat over his ears and garland around his neck.

He grumbled, of course, but no one could be mad at Niffty. “We’re breaking out the spiked cider now, then? Alright, whatever.” 

Niffty appeared at his counter just as he broke into a yawn, and held up a paper bag that had been full of ornaments a moment before, grinning widely. She didn't apologize for waking him, just wiggled the bag at him. Husk’s eyes flitted between her and the bag, and then- in the most bizarre, hilarious display Angel had ever seen- he pounced across the counter, diving headfirst into the bag and sliding across the floor.

Angel would be dead if Husk heard him laughing, and even worse if he ever spoke of that to a single soul. He filed the image away in his memories, vowing never to forget it, and stifled his laughter like his very soul depended on it.

He would never admit it aloud, but the hotel’s first patron had come to be quite fond of the other residents. Sure, it was a chore to put on a good face, and he probably could work a little harder at that and actually make an effort to improve himself. But really, he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a part of him that wanted to stay in hell, if only for the company. He was pretty sure Charlie couldn’t redeem herself no matter what good she did, being the daughter of Lucifer. Alastor and Husk wouldn’t want to no matter what, or rather, Alastor wouldn’t; Husk was just lazy and too fully adapted to hell to want to uproot it all to make a princess happy. He knew Cherri wouldn’t try, either, but she would support him if that’s what he chose. She was good like that, really, under the explosive exterior. 

Hell, even Niffty was probably stuck here. Angel had no idea how she was here to begin with, but she seemed happy to be in hell, and really, anyone who was that friendly with Alastor was probably irredeemable.

Angel ended up reminiscing until he fell asleep sometime in the early evening. He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming when he stirred, but he blinked his eyes open to a warm lobby and a softly crackling fireplace, with fixtures all draped in white lights and sparkling pink and gold garlands. The windows had fogged over from the snowfall outside. It all looked beautiful, honestly. 

A small table beside his couch held a steaming mug of what looked like hot cocoa. Taking a sip, Angel tasted a fair bite of rum, and he glanced over to see Husk on one of the stools outside the bar, raising a glass of whiskey in a silent salute. 

The entire lobby felt warm, not just from the fire but from everyone around. Christmas was still a couple of weeks away, but everyone had gathered in the lobby sometime during the afternoon to have cocoa and sit in the new couches Alastor had brought in by the fire, relaxed and happy to welcome the season. Hell was due for its massive freeze over any day now. Angel had never really been a part of anything celebratory; usually he was just trying to scramble to prepare for the week or so that he couldn’t go outside without a coma. This was foreign, and honestly, a little intimidating.

He woke up a bit more fully over the next few minutes, the warmth of his drink finally rousing him, and tuned in to a pleasant, calming voice reciting what sounded like old holiday anecdotes about family, lights, and jambalaya.

Alastor?

The Radio Demon leaned elegantly on the mantle above the fireplace, seemingly unbothered by the heat nearly licking at his legs. Angel almost tripped when he stood up and saw the svelte demon clad in slim-fitting black slacks and a slouching sweater that just barely revealed his shoulder. He looked… well, beautiful, for sure, but comfortable, content. In fact, everyone seemed to be in soft sweaters and slippers. Charlie had bared her horns; Husk had a blanket over his shoulders. Everyone seemed to be as cozy as possible, and completely happy in each others’ company. 

If Angel were Husker, he’d be purring. The sight made him feel all kinds of fuzzy, even if it felt completely weird to see everyone getting along. He usually would wake up to tease them all, but he found that he just didn't have the energy, or really, even much desire to ruin the mood.

“Oh! Angel Dust, you’re awake! Come here!” 

Feeling caught and far too called out by Charlie’s call, Angel tentatively approached her. He also felt quite overdressed.

A small box was thrust into two of his hands with a flourish. “I know it’s a little early for presents, buuuuttttt.. Since it’s about to freeze, I wanted to… I dunno, welcome the season with some good cheer! C’mon, open it! Everyone got one!” 

Angel stared at the gift with trepidation. It was wrapped in a shiny pink paper and tied with a glittery white bow, and… was that a little black kiss on the corner of the box? Damn, Charlie really went above and beyond. 

Suddenly feeling entirely too exposed, Angel reddened under his fur, and carefully pulled at the bow. Charlie assured him he didn’t have to be so careful, but despite feeling a bit foolish, he couldn’t ravage the paper like she encouraged him to. It was too thoughtful; he could see from the scattered shreds of it around the floor that everyone’s gift had been personalized. Alastor had holographic red foil paper at his feet, Vaggie had pieces of a rosy pink paper with a pattern of silver xes on the table, Niffty had a bright pink and orange striped paper that she playfully pulled over her head like a little scarf. It was more effort than had ever been seriously shown to the spider.

Thinking back, his best- well, only- presents had usually been some kind of lingerie or toy that a client wanted to put him into or use on him, generally wrapped in paper that was covered in dicks if it was wrapped at all. Cherri had gotten him a fuckload of drugs on one or two occasions, which was always a bonus, but never the most thoughtful. It always came back to benefit the giver more than him, and he'd generally just been content with that. 

After all, Henrion and Arakniss weren't what anyone would call family men, and gifts just... weren't a thing among them. Molly could be known to give sometimes, but that was usually clothes for shows and films. She knew she was the only one who supported her twin, and she did her best. She was just, frankly, terrible at giving gifts, no matter how well she knew someone, so most everything was generic as fuck. Which was fine, of course. Angel never expected anything.

He finally reached the white box under the paper and discarded the top with far more abandon than he’d had for the paper. 

An absurdly plush sweater greeted him, the color almost exactly that of strawberry milk and the collar wide enough to bare both of his shoulders but folded over like a massive turtleneck. Two little slits in front of his arms were laced loosely with black ribbon, and as he lifted it out of the box, he noticed the entire back was hollowed out, with more ribbon lacing covering the negative space, corset-style. 

He opened his mouth to thank her, but no sound escaped him. His eyes flickered up to everyone else, to the soft, expectant faces he’d come to privately call his friends. His fingers tightened around his gift- this personalized, handmade gift, crafted specifically for him by someone he usually lived to push buttons for- and he felt it.

That tightening in his throat that said he was going to cry.

The feeling that meant he needed to flee. Immediately. 

He hoped he uttered a ‘thank you’ that Charlie could hear before he bolted from the lobby and blindly toward the first unlocked room he could find, but he doubted he’d be so lucky. 

Angel Dust was blind to his surroundings as he slammed the door behind him, burying his face in the soft sweater and demanding his breathing settle down. He was in a heap on the floor and probably looked like an absolute mess. The demon was at least careful to keep his eyes away from the fabric and not streak it with mascara. 

Slowly he got his breathing back to something manageable and rose to his feet, taking a deep breath and undoing his jacket to try it on. 

He almost threw himself into another fit the second the sweater settled around his hips. The sleeves bunched up at his wrists and made ‘sweater paws’ just like he liked, and the bottom hem just softly hugged his hips. He felt… soft, and small, and cozy. His black shorts peeked out from under the hem by only a couple inches, his shoulders bared over the collar. It was absolutely perfect.

Damn, he looked like a twink. Fuck yeah.

A soft knock at the door made him jump, and suddenly he felt flustered again. He approached it slowly, expecting the darling Princess of Hell to be checking on him.

He definitely did not expect Husk, scowl ever-present but eyes soft. 

“You alive in here?” Husk asked gruffly. He was still wrapped up in the card-suits blanket Charlie undoubtedly also made him, which, being so small, was honestly just adorable. The spider offered a mute nod, four arms wrapped around his midsection like a toddler.

“Great. You wanna come back out before Charlie wears a hole in the floorboards? Or maybe before Big Al starts feeling like murderin’ ya for being in his room?”

Angel whipped around, incredulous, trying to see his surroundings as he was certain he couldn’t possibly have run into _Alastor's_ room, of all the places in the hotel.

He was instead met with Alastor himself, eyes hooded, grin so broad it was almost trembling in the effort. The room was entirely generic, save for red wallpaper and carpet and a massive, old-fashioned radio the size of a small dresser beside the bed, which was now crackling with static while its dials spun rapidly back and forth. 

Angel was slowly coming to understand certain types of grin from the Radio Demon. To his surprise, despite the ominous radio, Alastor wasn’t displaying his usual warning of wide, radio-dial eyes and snarling smile. 

Was Alastor… not actually mad?

Angel backed quickly out of the room regardless, watching the shadows creeping up from the plush red carpeting disappear and the radio settle as soon as his boots cleared the threshold into the hallway. He felt his legs tremble faintly as he started descending the stairs, Husker having already left them in the assumption that Angel could keep himself alive. Bold of him.

He felt… shy, somehow, as he rounded the corner, and Charlie’s blinding grin made him hesitate in the doorway.

A hand curled around his shoulder, the motion threatening though the touch was gentle. He jumped, but before he could turn to look at Alastor the room was cut with a deep, heavy belly laugh from Husker.

“Husker! Why, I never thought I’d see you smile on your own accord!” Alastor almost praised the cat, head tilted in question.

“Yeah, you should… fuckin’ look up, asshole!”

A record scratch cut the room into silence as Alastor peered upward. Angel could almost swear his grin faltered for the most miniscule moment.

“Alright, what the fu-”

Alastor was only currently staring daggers at him, jaws clenched.

Of course, Niffty had been decorating for the season.

She was also the only one brave enough to break the silence, as her tiny, cheery voice rang out, “guys, I think I just killed Angel Dust.”

Angel swallowed hard. Time to bullshit a way to save his life, while he was trapped under the mistletoe.

With Alastor.


	2. Don't Die In Your New Sweater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel gets several heart attacks thanks to a certain strawberry demon, and then two unexpected companions come to realize they might have more in common than they might have originally assumed.  
> But how will they fare with winter weather quickly worsening?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey! Some angst and heavy themes in this one, read at your own risk and please be sure to read the tags!  
> Also, this part is headcanon/interpretation heavy- Al is confirmed to have been a radio host/serial killer who was killed by dogs; Angel is confirmed to have a brother, dad, and twin sister, but no given mother yet, and to have died by overdose after refusing the gang business and turning to sex work, but a lot of the opinions and details are guesswork! I hope y'all like that!  
> Before I go- catch the inspirations! Angel hibernating in the cold, and hell freezing over in winter are both headcanons I adopted from other fics (I wish I remembered which, I feel terrible for that! If I find the authors for those I'll edit right away!) and the song Alastor sings is from Devil's Carnival!

Radio static even further distorted than Angel thought possible echoed under the high ceilings for what felt like both a split second and an eternity simultaneously. The result was a room that felt vaguely warped and uncomfortable and several fairly shaken demons, all of whom now stared at Alastor with a look of intrigue on top of VERY thinly veiled terror.

The following silence was broken only by the now-inferno in the fireplace that seemed to dance to the racing heartbeats in the room. 

Composure snapping into place as though commanded by every fiber of his being, the deer suddenly straightened, smile easy as if nothing had ever happened, and slowly turned on his heel, extending his hand to Angel Dust.

A direct invitation to take his hand- not a command to do something for him, not even a proposed deal, no given threat... Angel suddenly felt very cornered, very vulnerable, and very uncertain. No one in the lobby dared to even whisper, if they were breathing at all.

"Come now, Angel Dust," Alastor crooned. His voice held a low note that sent very conflicted shivers up Angel's spine. In anyone else, he would be unable to tell if that were a warning, a threat, or a solicitation. In Alastor, there were only two options, and neither of them the one Angel would usually hope for. "It is Christmas, after all! What's the harm in simple tradition?"

Angel stalled, his whole body rigid. Every muscle screamed at him to flee. _It's a trap, it just has to be. Alastor would never just... would he?_

In fact, none of them really knew a damn thing about the Radio Demon- except that he was murderous, extremely powerful, and very, very sly. All of those words screamed danger.

Angel, however, was an ex-gangster who spent his free time pre-Hotel helping with turf wars for fun. If nothing else, his pride as a shameless and eagerly reckless spider was on the line should he cower from a _deer_. But something still nagged him.

Alastor hated any level of intimacy whatsoever. And if that weren't enough, he held a particualr loathing for Angel, specifically. A kiss on the cheek from Charlie would probably give him a smile, same went for Niffty. Husk or Vaggie were total mysteries in that regard, mostly because they would absolutely never. Angel, on the other hand, would drop to his knees in a second for the strawberry devil, and Alastor had been made well and loudly aware of that. He established a five-foot rule on day one and hadn't forgotten it once.

Except...

Flashes of their two meetings in the woods crossed Angel's mind briefly. The easy conversation, the watchful eye at night, the _pets..._ now this? None of it made sense. Alastor seemed so content with it, but it was obvious seconds ago that it wasn't planned and he'd panicked. If Angel could sweat, he would be. Never, not once, had a proposition made him nervous before.

The red demon was terribly- and delightfully- close, smelling like spices and metal that Angel was definitely sure was metal because it totally wouldn't be blood on such a nice day like this. The white spider took a breath, made a snap decision, and closed his eyes to just _do it._

The skin his lips met was impeccably soft, making him pause longer than he intended. Alastor was stock-still, anyway, so it really didn't matter. 

While Angel shakily withdrew, Alastor remained rooted to the spot, his smile small but not in its usual, more sinister and plotting style. He looked... fond? Angel found himself genuinely looking to the princess of hell for some form of guidance, and Charlie visibly took in a breath and stood to approach them.

She was halfway to them when Alastor blinked and straightened. His smile was broader now, but genuine, and he looked between the spider, the princess, and then the other patrons with soft eyes. The first words out of his mouth, at least two minutes after it all, were simply, "a forehead kiss. Why, only my mother has given me those!"

The radio tin was gone from his voice, and his posturing slipped into something no one could really call nonexistance, but a sort of relaxed regality. Even his ever-perked ears swiveled back partially in contentedness. It was unsettling, and equally infectious. And, everyone had to admit, almost... cute.

Really cute.

Was the Radio Demon himself... a momma's boy?

Unable to sleep later that night, little spidery feet padded their way down the stairs. Angel slept quite a lot, so being up and wandering was rare for him. He wasn't really sure what to do to pass the time, but he figured watching the fire might get his eyes to droop a little at least. Plus, his room was a little chilly for his liking.

He paused outside Alastor's door, and again under the lobby doorframe. His fingers traced the siding, absentminded and still slightly chilled. With a soft sigh, he stepped forward into the main lobby and toward the couch, and quickly realized he wasn't the only one up late. Alright, awesome.

"Hey, Smiles," he called out tiredly.

Silence.

Eyebrow raised, the spider rounded the corner, about to speak up when he noticed a sound. Not radio static, not a tv, just a gentle, permeating noise, resonating from the Radio Demon as he slept sitting upright, legs crossed and arms folded across his chest. He still held a faint smile.

Red noise. Alastor produced red noise while he slept. Quiet and unobtrusive, compared to white noise that a tv would set off. He sounded like listening to a rainstorm, or wind by the ocean except the water is on fast forward, and you're hearing it from downstairs and away from any windows. Soft. Yet another thing about him that was just plain soft. 

Angel Dust opted to be ballsy, and very gently perched on the couch beside Alastor, avoiding actually touching him. Boundaries were something of a new subject with Angel, in a way, and he still wasn't sure if he was so respectful of Alastor's to gain trust, or to spare his own life. To save his ego, at least, he would always claim the latter if asked.

"Y'know, Voodoo," he mused into the near-silence, "you've mentioned your mama twice now, at least, but you never really talk about your family. Y'seemed happy thinkin' about her, though. You should tell m-... tell us, sometime. Ya know? I bet.. I mean, Charlie would love to hear about her if she was a good lady and all. I'd ask to meet her, if she's, uh. Down here." He stalled, feeling awkward. Logically, Alastor was fast asleep and would never hear him, but he still struggled with conversation that wasn't just eager pickup lines or exhibitionary propositions, or some other topic of crude natures. 

"I got family down here. All of us, they all robbed and killed and shit. I ran off and sucked dick for a while, before I got too fucked up and kicked it. My dad and my brother fucked off to who knows where once they got here, though, and Molly's too good for this lower circle shit, so.. it's just me." Angel paused, a small smile gracing his face. "You'd probably like her. Real gem, the closest thing to a Southern Belle you could find in New York, really. She'd probably wanna dress you up, feed ya. Real motherly like that." 

The red noise glitched for a second, and made Angel jump, but Alastor didn't stir. Angel shrugged and went on.

"Y'know I kinda never pictured you with a mom. I mean, you mentioned her, what, once? But it's not the kinda thing ya think about when ya look at... well. You. But now it's in my head and all, you as a regular guy, alive, huggin' your mama in the morning before... the radio? Or whatever it is ya did? 'Dunno." Angel slumped a little. His shoulders felt heavy, weighed down. He knew his breath was catching in his throat but he didn't have the energy to flee a second time.

Family was... touchy. Aside from Molly, he didn't consider himself to be a part of one. He was the outcasted one; Arackniss was always the favourite. He knew he had a mom, but he didn't even remember her face anymore, and she sure as hell wasn't down here anywhere that he'd been. Or if she was, she surely had seen his face, and kept well enough away that he got the message. 

He wasn't much of one for being wanted around, and he knew that. He was _useful_ , not loved. The holidays were the worst for it; bunches of other sad, lonely sacks of shit moping around, calling in to get their dicks sucked and forget about it. But Angel didn't forget. Even if he got fun ones, like Travis, he came back to Valentino every time and dropped off his share of the money and it was over. Val was big and bad and shitty. Everyone went about their lives.

While the image of a dainty Louisiana woman holding Alastor's cheek and kissing his forehead struck something deep and heavy and cold in Angel's stomach, he felt his lips turn into a smile at it, too. Persona aside, he really just couldn't be bitter about family. Especially kids. The vulgar, careless spider really, really loved kids.

Somewhere in his silent reverie, Alastor shifted, and then slid onto his side, his head just barely resting on the outside of Angel's thigh. The spider froze, staring down at the deer in a mix of adoration and terror, but Alastor gave no sign of awareness.

"Well, Smiles, guess I'm sleeping here tonight." Angel adjusted as carefully as possible and slowly closed his eyes. Alright, this was weird- real weird. But he supposed he'd done far, far worse.

Dawn light crept in through stained glass, the window portrait aiming a vaguely Lucifer-esque figure onto the lobby floor, looming and vibrant. The red light that hit Angel's eyes with creeping intensity roused him from a dream he was already forgetting, of snow and a feeling of something like urgency, or perhaps just necessity?. 

He shook his head softly to wake himself up and scooted back against the cushions, rubbing his eyes. He was alone on the couch. _So Alastor's gone,_ he reasoned. He couldn't tell how he felt about that, really. 

Angel stood, slowly extending each leg in turn with both pairs of arms stretched over his head in a very catlike stretch. With a pause, he eyed the door. "Maybe it won't be quite so cold outside if I go early," he murmured into the silence of the lobby. Might as well, he figured. Not much else to do.

The hotel was in slumber as he ascended the stairs, serene and docile and not particularly hellish, really. He kind of loved soft mornings like this. His room was lit up in soft pink from the light sreaming through his lacy curtains. His furred coat, and the reason for his trip upstairs, lay snugly under the sleeping form of Fat Nuggets, who had curled up among the almost nest of pillows Angel had amassed, presumably to make up for his absence as they usually cuddled to sleep. Angel felt a bit bad for leaving him. 

"Eh, I won't be out long," Angel decided, heading out of the room. "He can keep the coat." 

It was bitterly cold outside, as the spider expected it to be. An icy breeze carried the scent of frost across the pathway and ruffled Angel's already messy hair. He closed his eyes and slowed his stride, taking it in, trying to remember his dream and the snow and why it felt so-

Angel's eyes opened to radio dials right in his face, and he leapt impossibly high with an echoing yelp. When he tumbled back down on the cobbled path, Alastor grinned with an entirely placid expression.

"Ah, Angel! You're awake! And braving the cold again, I see!" Nothing in his tone felt even vaguely hinting at a disdain or threat after recent events, which was somehow even more eerie than if it had. Alastor straightened, spun on his heel, and started off down the path, as if completely finished with conversation.

However, his proximity to the hotel, and the fact that he was walking away from it now, suggested he'd been just outside the doors when Angel left. 

So he was... waiting for him?

Angel scrambled to his feet, wary but following anyway- if nothing else for lack of self-preservation, and out of aching curiosity. He followed the easy tune Alastor hummed, not quite coming up beside him but preferring to stay a couple paces behind. It felt expected to do so; that was the energy Alastor commanded, though Angel hesitated to admit it. He was a tough demon who could hold his own against rowdy bastards like Pentious, but overlords could make him a little uneasy. Look at his employer, after all.

They walked in an oddly companionable silence for a time, neither really needing to make conversation. Angel watched his breath cloud in the air for a while, not really caring to mind his surroundings.

"You like the Black Pines, yes?" Alastor piped up out of nowhere, startling the spider. He'd slowed a bit, sort of ambling contentedly. They'd reached the road and travelled smoothly toward the outskirts of town, but it was so quiet with everyone holed up for the inevitable Freeze that Angel hardly noticed. He was grateful for the slow pace, though, as he was feeling sluggish. 

"The woods by the hotel? Yeah, sure. Nice for peace and quiet."

"Why?"

The inquiry caught Angel off guard. "Why what?"

"Why the woods? Why does a loud, chaotic individual like yourself take solace in a quiet wood like that?" When Angel withdrew slightly, Alastor raised an eyebrow and corrected himself.

"Rather.. I mean to ask, what draws you to a place so out of character?" His voice had softened some, and he looked at the Spider as they walked. He seemed genuine. It was weird.

"Well, eh. They're nice," Angel stammered. Truly poetic. "I mean, they're out of the way. Out of sight. I don't... don't gotta be some goody two-shoes, don't gotta be on-demand. I can take a break. And I really like the snow. The sun hits it just over the hills out there and makes it sparkle. Shit's real pretty." He wasn't aware he was smiling, or that Alastor had noticed it, but Alastor didn't mention it to him. 

Alastor, actually, had fixed himself with a small, fond smile, hands clasped comfortably behind his back and eyes watching the sidewalk ahead but looking off into the distance, unfocused. It was quiet for a while before he replied. "That's a vulnerable answer I didn't expect." It wasn't taunting, just gentle, and Angel's skin pricked below his fur. "It's hard to be lonely, isn't it?"

Angel balked at that. "Alastor?"

"I understand, truly," Alastor went on, as if he hadn't heard the spider. "I only had my mother, and only for a short time. Why, I still remember the radio, all abuzz when they found me! Hahahaha! Those hounds got the murderer, the orphaned radio host! Oh, the horror!!" His tone was far too cheerful, while his glowing eyes cast red hues across the pavement and snow around them, even in broad daylight. Angel felt his heart slip into his stomach at the same time as his mouth went completely dry, leaving him silent in the face of Alastor's emotions. He couldn't help but wonder if this was why Alastor had been so friendly, or at least tolerant, and had waited for him before leaving.

"I did a great many terrible things," Alastor almost purred, apparently composing himself once more. "But my mother... she was never harmed. No one all that innocent really ever was, save for... well. We all must experiment sometimes, musn't we? Hahaha! It's simply nature! But slaughtering the innocent never sat well."

"Makes two of us," Angel finally managed. "Pops always wanted me to be a part of the gang business. Best he got was fluent Italian, back in the day. I couldn't go through with it after I tried it. Ran homeless for a minute, picked up sex as a means to an end, made a living."

"Well I suppose that's not too terrible, for someone who likes... any of that," Alastor replied, eyebrow raised. "If you left the business, what got you here?"

"Drugs, probably. Fuckin' a new guy every night, not giving a shit about names as long as they paid. Using some of Pops' old tricks if they didn't. That's probably a fair bit of it." He chuckled humorlessly, lower arms crossed over his stomach while his other hands were shoved deep in his pockets. "You lost to some dogs, eh? I went out on drugs. Only kinda on accident. Heh. PCP. Y'know they called that shit Angel Dust, right? Got that name my first week down here and it's been dick and drugs ever since." He caught Alastor's poorly-hidden cringe, and chose to ignore it. 

It was a real riot, the more he thought about it. He'd had plenty of time to get bitter, despite his front. He'd learned everything he knew about turf wars and dominance from Cherri in the early years, and fighting with her was a relief, a side of himself that was his own, but even that was only partial. If he thought about it for too long, it reminded him of Henrion. He'd really come full circle. Damn, that's pathetic. Giving up everything you've ever had because it's worthless, dying, and waking up in hell just to spend eternity doing all the same shit with no way out. What a funny fuckin' joke.

Alastor was humming, low enough to not intrude, though one ear was trained on Angel. The spider wondered how much of his self-loathing he'd recited aloud.

When the spider's thoughts settled, he noticed Alastor had begun to sing, without any of his old radio tin or his usual jazzy announcer inflection. It took a minute for Angel to register that the deer wasn't simply speaking, but the elegance of the lines and the emotion held between them was surprisingly powerful. It wasn't a song Angel had ever heard, and while the tone was gentle, almost reassuring, the words stirred something in Angel he couldn't explain.

"You're drowning in the grief

"Of Jupiter's water

"Let me open my teeth

"And cradle you there

"There's a bed for the boy

"And a rope for the father

"Both orphaned by Heaven

"Where no child is spared.

"It is hell, Angel," Alastor said softly, after trailing off into a long silence. "No one is meant to be happy here."

Angel was speaking before he was aware of himself. "Speak for yourself, Bambi! Look at you! Okay, sure, you lost your family and got your ass kicked by some police mutts, but fuck, you showed up here and made it up to the big leagues right off! No one fucks with the Radio Demon! You have all of hell as a personal stomping grounds and some weird Hentai tentacle power bullshit! You have everything!" Angel was gesturing wildly with his hands, his voice raised and his fur frazzled. He let out a long sigh, smoothing his hair and tucking his arms back into their warm spots. Ugh. Obviously Al was also dealing with some shit, and Angel was just tagging along to fuck it up, apparently. Alastor didn't move to challenge his outburst, and that silence almost felt worse. "Alright, I'm sorry, that was-"

"No, you were right. I have regrets. But the reminder was in poor taste." 

Alastor being nice was getting way too damn weird. "Why are you being... like this?" Angel finally demanded. "Nice? Supportive? You hated me."

"I never hated you." 

"Bullshit!"

"I only hate those deserving of it. You're... annoying, certainly, and far too lewd. But of all the beings and beasts in this place, you're far from evil."

"Evil like... you?"

Alastor laughed hard, a glint in his eye. "Well, some may say so! But really, I clawed my way to the top to defy law, my good friend! Law that killed me once. I battled out the overlords, the greatest evil of hell itself. I kept to my old code of honour. Can any of the denizens here claim the same?" He turned, offering a wink at his companion while a sound of suspensful audience murmuring filled the frigid air for a moment. "We are not on the same tier, the overlords and I."

For once, Angel found himself stunned into silence. Try as he might, he really couldn't find a fault with Alastor's claim, and that gave him a completely new- and _very_ unexpected- perspective on the Radio Demon.

As it turned out, Alastor had heard everything he'd said the night prior, and despite Angel's embarrassment, he was a little relieved. Aside from Cherri, no one really knew _him_ \- and, to be fair, the last individual he'd ever planned to have vulnerable heart-to-hearts with would be Alastor, but the deer was a surprisingly comfortable conversation partner once one got past the seemingly involuntary theatrics. They were sort of heartwarming, in a weird, super creepy way. 

They sat, currently, at a decently rusted steel wire table outside an abandoned shop that Angel used to frequent in early years, before some brute he and Cherri had warred with managed to destroy a fair bit of it in one of their smaller skirmishes. Angel honestly couldn't remember what the shop sold all that time ago, but he was starting to get really tired, and the wind was picking up and getting sharp in its iciness. A brief respite would do them both good, he'd assured Alastor firmly.

Alastor sat daintily on the rickety bench, disgust glimmering behind his teeth, while Angel struggled to keep his head up. Conversation had dwindled as he'd gotten less and less responsive, and he slowly curled up on the battered tabletop. Alastor tried to ask why he hadn't gone out with a coat, but it fell on deaf ears and a sleeping spider.

What did wake him, though, was a sudden, harsh, screaming gale that picked up in a matter of moments, threatening to blow even Alastor away. The following sound made both of them sink a little in their seats- the piercing, eerie, half-broken wail of the sirens alterting everyone in the Pentagram and a little ways beyond of the start of the Freeze.

Without fail, every year, the Freeze was inexplicably fast and absolutely vicious in its hold. No one dared leave their homes, unless they somehow lucked out on benefitting from such drastic cold. And it would be set in minutes. 

They were more than an hour's walk from the hotel. Neither of them were fit for the cold, Angel specifically very UNfit and Alastor not quite intending to attempt to weather that with a body in tow.

So, Alastor did the next right thing, using the amount of power he had invested in the radio tower simply from how much of his own energy had been put into it from his practice, and with Angel in hand, teleported them both out of the cold. 

It would be a long, interesting week for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited for a few ideas I have for the future! As always, pleeeeaaaaaase leave feedback and bookmark this for future chapters! I love you all!


	3. So It's A Deal, Then?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \--ALASTOR POV--  
> Alastor is faced with the knowledge that Angel, and himself, are now effectively trapped in the tower until the Thaw. He's also realizing that he's struggling more than normal with the holidays this year, and needing a distraction.  
> Alastor also comes to realize that sometimes, you can find a victim who WANTS your worst torment, and will beg you for more, and he discovers that he is all too eager to comply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This gets spicey and while it isn't necessarily graphic, there is a pretty strong theme of sadism through a lot of it and descriptions of wounds/blood/wounding others consensually for pleasure.  
> For those unaware, just in case:  
> Sadism- an attraction to/fetish for hurting/torturing/tormenting others  
> Masochism- an attraction to/fetish for being hurt/tortured/tormented  
> If these are triggering themes please avoid this chapter!

The living quarters of the tower were sparsely decorated but held a macabre sense of glamour, all high-backed chairs and plush cushions and absolutely everything either in unyielding greys and blacks or shocking, bloody red. It was a look and energy Alastor took a lot of pride in, despite never allowing anyone near enough to ever have them over. He was, as a demon, possibly even more reclusive than he was as a human, unless there was something for him to gain from being more outspoken. He wasn't afraid of others by any means; rather, he simply preferred to keep his time to exclusively pleasurable activities. 

Draping a furry black pelt over Angel Dust, an entire pornstar, as he slept off the effects of the Freeze on one of Alastor's more lavish couches, wasn't something he usually would consider a pleasurable activity.

But softening around Yuletime was something he'd never lost, a trait his family hosted with pride. There was no rivalry, no hatred, through winter. Feuds were on hold and replaced with music and food. It was no surprise to anyone who might know that- which, here, was no one- that Alastor almost seemed incapable of feeling anger as the winter chill set in.

Angel, too, was clearly almost inebriated by the cold, and it tempered his usual eroticism considerably. Beneath it, he seemed almost tolerable, even in the warmer seasons. Alastor found himself lingering and not really bothering to wonder why, looking at the softness on the spider's face that he never really showed.

Alastor was an analytical character, for sure. He'd had to be, given his life before; analyzing every move his victims made as well as every thread he might leave behind for authorities. Obviously, he hadn't been meticulous enough, but he refused giving that thought too much weight anymore. He'd immediately vowed to right the mistakes that allowed him to be hunted like game by those hounds once he arrived in hell, and he'd done so with a speed and elegance unprecedented for a mortal soul. He now put his instinctive need to wrap every fiber of his brain, his entire intellect, around the psyche of anyone in his presence to dissect and rearrange the pieces he'd been shown of Angel Dust, especially those more recent. His semi-hibernation, his unfamiliarity with general kindness, and most notably, his family. Alastor HAD been sleeping, but he picked up and processed Angel's midnight ramblings like a well-tuned receiver. He'd never considered Angel to have family, much less to be so torn up about it. Specifically, he'd been plagued with curiosity about his sister, and even moreso his mother that he seemed to skirt around despite his openness with the others. 

The deer wouldn't bring any of these matters up of his own accord, but he did see Angel in a bit of a new light for them. Even with Angel's apparently negative connections to parts of his family, he still seemed very fond of them. It was admirable, and much the same as Alastor could say for himself. 

Sighing softly, the Radio Demon opted to leave his new companion be. Busying himself with tidying their now-shared living space, and eventually opting to pull out old totes and start putting up his own holiday decorum. 

Befitting for hell, his tree-rather, trees, as he enjoyed making a near-forest with lanky trees spread around the spacious room- were inky black pines, wrapped in blue-black UV lights that cast haunting glows around the vibrant red walls. He laid seemingly endless strands of these along the edge of the room, securing them in the seam between wall and floor in an odd contrast to tradition. Red lights, in contrast, framed every doorway, and replaced the white bulbs in the large chandelier the center of the room boasted, dying the pristine antlers that made it up a bloodshed crimson. The entire room now fell into various shades of red and pink, some glowing with an eerie toxicity and others blending together in a haunting display. Depth perception be damned, the shades put Alastor's deeply-buried prey instincts on high alert, and he loved it. A good thrill was delightful, when relatively contained.

He hummed soft, mindless tunes as he went about his work. He knew he could easily broadcast on the freeze, or even escape back out into it as deer tended to be fairly well built for snow. But he, too, was a little slower around this time of year, though not falling under the hibernation instincts that Angel had. He refused to admit that part of him enjoyed sharing space with Angel when his facade was down and his real energy could be felt; he had an aura of softness that was new to Alastor.

Definitely not in the way that Charlie or Niffty were soft, that he was certain of. Charlie was sweet, well-intentioned, and very, very naive; Niffty was simply boisterous and childlike. But Angel... Angel seemed truly vulnerable, and maybe even scared.

It was a very intriguing development to the wendigo-esque being.

Not more than an hour had passed. A smell of Cajun spices and roasted vegetables was filling the air within their level of the tower, along with a contented low hum; no longer a song, just a soft noise to set an ambience. Blinds had been cracked slightly, and the usual red light of hell's sun had been washed out into an almost Earthly yellow-white that filtered in and left pinkish lines on the plush black carpeting as it blended with the Yule lighting. If one looked for long enough, they could watch dust motes pass the rays and glimmer in their frigid brilliance. It wasn't cold in the studio, but somewhere around lukewarm, and Alastor had chosen to indulge in the soft warmth of his handmade sweater over lighting his dark, angular fireplace.

The gumbo he was working on was essentially a pasttime as he almost impatiently awaited the oven's announcement of freshly baked beignets being done. He adored cooking, almost as much as carnage- and, while there was only _some_ leftover demon mixed into the more typical Cajun sausage in the gumbo, he could always sate his needs with the sweet pastry he'd learned to make as a human child. He'd been up in his feelings far too much lately to ignore the longing for something like home any longer. He leaned a hip on the countertop, pensive, running a hand through his loose forelock as he'd put the rest of his half-shaven hair into a ponytail at the crown of his head.

It was weird, being so homesick. He'd been dead for so long, and he'd seen many winters; sure, it always struck a chord to be alone for the holidays, to continue to see so much shameless violence in a time of peace where even he had sworn to lay his weapons aside, but he could silence that and hole up with some jambalaya and be fine.

This year was different.

This year, not only did he lean toward his muted migration instinct of disappearing into thick woodlands to avoid harsh weather, he craved being outside, as if the trees in the forest would magically be strung with lights or the streets would flood with markets and performers. As if the hotel would be full of people waiting to watch the lights come on for the first time, to welcome the start of Christmas. It was beginning to get a little melancholy, and he was desperately hoping for some form of distraction.

He had heard Angel shift on the couch and murmur something, and his ears had perked in gratitude at something new to focus on. "Angel?" he called into the living area. 

A faint mumble met his call with the verbal equivalent of a weak wave in response to a hand extended for a shake. No matter, Alastor dismissed. _He's halfway to hibernation, anyway._ Bringing a wooden spoonful of gumbo along, he padded on light feet to the velvet couch, where one of Angel's arms was now dangling off the back.

Angel had remained either asleep or heavily disoriented the entire time Alastor was bringing him to the tower. It was good for Alastor; he could simply let Angel lean on him, rather than expending necessary energy to tractor beam him again, and not be taunted or... solicited. That was still a side of Angel, no matter how muted it could be, and Alastor still couldn't wrap his head around it or find any level of comfort with it.

_I suppose I could... no. No, that won't be happening._ Confronting the spider and asking questions about his... unusually active sexual habits was definitely not something Alastor was about to even put on the table.

Apparently, it was chile peppers and paprika that could rouse Angel in this state. The heaping spoon of gumbo was right in his face, and he blinked his eyes open groggily as he registered the scents before him, and immediately rolled them back in ecstasy. 

"Fuck's sake, Al, I wake up at your place and then you're feeding me dinner? Should I be feeling taken advantage of or something?" Angel half-slurred, smirking messily as he sat up and made quite the show of stretching himself upward, revealing his midsection and arching his back with a disturbing moan. It wasn't as bad as his persistent eye contact as he peered up through thick lashes and far too slowly wrapped his mouth around the offered spoonful of their dinner.

Alastor felt himself shudder inwardly, his limbs aching to push the spider as far from him as possible in much more of their usual response. Apparently the rest had livened him up. Delightful.

"Or something," Alastor replied through gritted teeth. "I always thought that gumbo recipe was lacking in _arachnid_ , how do you like it?" His words dripped with a threat of venom as he squinted, watching the red glow of his eyes dance on Angel's snowy fur.

Unfortunately, Angel's lips curled into an eager smile. "Well, you can eat me any time, Smiles," he purred. The way he sat up pushed his chest fluff higher than normal, in an attempt to catch Alastor's eye, no doubt. It succeeded in making him fantasize grabbing a fistful of the thick fur and launching the offensive spider out of the window, if nothing else. He had half a mind to take the offer literally.

Alastor's faint radio static rose to a mildly grating white noise, and his grin broadened until his lips curled into more of a snarl. The terribly faint shiver of... excitement? that followed from Angel almost made him pause with intrigue. Was Angel so completely reckless as to challenge Alastor?

Or...

Could Angel possibly _want_ Alastor to attack him??

Alastor reeled for a heartbeat. Sure, he had an insatiable bloodlust, and he utterly adored eternally unanswered cries for help and pleads for mercy, at least when they were deserved. Angel was certainly annoying, but not someone deserving of a mauling per se. Alastor had SOME morals and honour, if very specific to his own needs and opinions.

But Angel had a habit of pressing buttons- almost all of them, practically simultaneously, in fact- and it seemed to be more and more purposeful. Alastor was feeling a rising intrigue at the thought of a _willing_ victim, and as much as he willed the thoughts to silence themselves, it only seemed to be getting worse. He felt antsy.

_What a terribly interesting development this might become._

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, what a generous offer!" Alastor exclaimed heartily, laughing with the slightest growl in his voice. He blinked away his mild aggravation, straightened, and retreated back to the kitchen to finish cooking. Safely around the corner, he let out a gentle sigh, letting his ears sag slightly.

Angel appeared shortly after, as Alastor had more or less expected him to do. He lingered in the doorway, leaning on the frame and watching the red devil's methodical movements. Alastor could almost feel Angel's gaze slowly travel his form, though he tried to ignore it- especially when he saw the spider pause with upturned eyes, tilting his head, and then skim the Radio Demon once more, before shifting his stance with an almost-imperceptible expletive. To give him any credit, he seemed to be trying to avoid making a direct exclamation, for which Alastor could afford some manner of appreciation. Being directly regarded with such bold arousal, however, was still foreign, and made Alastor feel... strange.

"Dinner is just about ready, my friend! What's your take on spice?" It was a risky question, for sure, and a very open door, but he wasn't about to care for Angel if the spider couldn't breathe.

"I'll eat fire if you tip me," Angel murmured. Was his tone seductive? Or was that just Angel's voice? "I'll take whatever pain you're offerin', babe."

Alastor couldn't stop his ears from pricking almost eagerly. His silent growl was definitely aimed at himself that time. 

Angel was testing new tactics, he had to be. This was all to get under Alastor's skin.

"Be a darling, then, and take some bowls from this cabinet behind me into the living area, will you?" 

He hadn't intended to purr out that pet name quite so much, but he did, and he didn't miss Angel's grip on the doorframe tighten slightly before he sauntered past the stronger demon to perform his task.

Alastor let out a long breath he wasn't aware he was holding when Angel finally left the kitchen. The keen deer was beginning to _smell_ the want on the spider, and his brain was swimming in efforts to process it. He made sure to grab one of his bigger bottles of whiskey on his way out of the kitchen.

If nothing else, his liquor was strong enough to forget Angel was there, at least for a time. He hoped that was all it would do with Alastor's opinion of the pesky white demon.

"Aight, ya gotta tell me, Smiles," Angel cooed, after fairly relaxed bouts of discussing food from their respective home cities mixed with intolerable flirting over their shared dinner. He was leaning lavishly against the arm of the couch, two arms behind his head while one of the others held a chalice way too elegant for the spicy whiskey it held and the other free to gesture while he spoke- very, very Italian of him, of course. "You just some kinda big prude or what? A nun in a past life? Scared?" His grin turned mischievious as he leaned forward. "Ya scared to admit ya got a small dick? Is the great Radio Demon overcompensatin'?" Angel fell back with a cackle, apparently greatly enjoying himself.

Bristling, Alastor took the laugh break to take another drink. The fire in his throat was reassuring and grounding. He'd known this question would come up, and frankly, he'd be lying if it wasn't something he'd been getting more and more curious about himself. Obviously he understood an instinctive, primal nature, a need for intimacy, and had come to terms with simply... not having that.

But he had never been the type to be objectified so directly, and definitely not openly solicited to the point of being _taunted._ Something in the forward, brave nature of Angel's advances had caught his interest.

"I've simply never felt a need. I comprehended the feelings involved and never recognized them myself," he explained coolly, licking the excess liquor off his upper lip. Angel tracked every centimeter his tongue traveled, and he almost- _almost_ \- didn't want to feign ignorance, just to make Angel into an experiment.

"Wait... never? You mean-"

"Yes, Angel, I mean never. I've never been... _involved_ in such acts. Frankly, they've always seemed gross!"

Angel was gawking, wide-eyed. Apparently both of them were unable to empathize. "You've never even like... gotten hard for nobody? Not even been curious? Nothin'??"

Now Alastor paused. He could lie, sure. He could study Angel from afar, or let him get close and vulnerable and demand he explain himself when he'd gained trust. He could also keep his hands clean of all this, just as easily. He got plenty of joy out of devouring demons, he had no need to understand one that would be a tease to him at best when he couldn't completely destroy him.

But...

To hell with it, really. The devil was tipsy, Angel was practically wasted, and Alastor had gone far too long without a true power trip. He was in quite the mood to see this spider tremble in fear, and he always got what he wanted.

The snap decision seemed to allow something to switch within the demon that he'd been repressing; something primal and aggressive. It felt like the same rush he would get while he watched some poor excuse for a human realize he was about to meet his end, seeing the terror in their eyes and knowing it was for him. Demons didn't often give him that rush, didn't care to show such fear. The adrenaline was rising anew, and he took it in stride, suddenly very eager to see that look again.

He slowly lowered his drink to the table. His grin was growing faintly, and when his eyes snapped upward, they were glowing red, his radio dial pupils twitching side to side. The Radio Demon whipped sideways, antlers broadening, and lunged straight overtop of Angel Dust, sharp teeth only inches from the taller demon's face. His pause before speaking was just enough to hear a rather shaky "ohh" escape Angel's lips, Alastor's interest piqued when he recognized the unsteady tone was not _entirely_ fear.

There was still a note of hesitation to that moan though, and that... that caught Alastor pleasantly off guard.

"I have been _curious_ , Angel Dust," Alastor almost snarled. He watched the wide-eyed pornstar shiver. "You _lesser demon_ , with the courage, or perhaps ineptitude to _taunt_ me. The persistence to ignore my rejections, to push every button and writhe under my skin like a _parasite..._ I threaten you with unspeakable violence and you gun me for _more._ Are you simply _stupid?"_ He had shadows sweeping the floor like fog, curling eagerly around the bottom of the couch and reaching for Angel hungrily. Tendrils of the ebony smoke snaked along Angel's upper arms before coiling and solidifying there, drawing an all-too-excited whine from the spider, who rocked his hips in visible desperation.

Alastor didn't shrink away, though. Suddenly Angel was an object of curiosity. What had him so desperate, what limits he had- if any. What his real intentions were. Of course, the shadows slinking around them could easily do all the work for their summoner, leaving Alastor hands-free to watch his new test subject. He faced no losses from using the all too willing victim below him.

"You don't... you've never heard of _masochism?"_ Angel huffed out with a taunting laugh. It was broken with a sharp whimper as the now-shackles on his wrist tightened in warning at his mocking tone. "Fuck, if I'd known you'd be a kinky fucker I'd have begged ya to take a _knife_ to me _aaaages_ ago!" He arched his back, a low moan escaping his lips as he tugged against his restraints. "But this is almost just as good as it is. Been while, y'know." 

His pupils were massively dilated, and Alastor fought to hide his delight. He would _break_ this demon, he was certain of it. And he could not wait to do so.

"You chase pain, Angel Dust?" Alastor chuckled. "Surely you can't withstand anything that would interest me." He allowed the wrist restraints to loosen, expecting a rebuttal or challenge- but not expecting Angel to grip his hair with his lower arms, pulling him down face-to-face and practically snarling at him.

"You listen to me, Smiles," he hissed, his tone an entirely new low growl that felt challenging in a _very_ delicious way. "I go where Valentino tells me, you hear me? Val doesn't like me all scratched up by nobody. I've had nothin' but shady vanilla greaseballs for _months_. I'd sit here and let you shred me to _bone_ if that's what you wanted. It's not like you'll kill me." He released Alastor with the faintest shove, but the jolt of it was enough to drive the deer from his stunned stillness. He grinned through a snarl, his ungloved red hand shooting out to grip Angel's collared throat and shove him back down against the pillows.

Something carnal and primal twisted in Alastor's chest as the shocked eyes of the lesser demon widened, then rolled incredibly far backward as he jolted his hips upward toward Alastor and choked out a strained "O-oh, _yes..!"_ that melted into a wavering moan as claws curled into his neck.

Alastor was enticed in ways he hadn't really been since he was making kills as a human. He wasn't sure if he would call it arousal in the same sense as Angel was displaying, but he was sufficiently thrilled by the eagerness Angel showed toward being subjected to Alastor's most feral desires. The deer felt his head spin with excitement and bloodlust as well as the whiskey. He pictured that white fur tinged pink and red and copper in layers of the spider's own blood, plotted where he could leave his sigil carved into fur and flesh or perhaps just branded as an inescapable seal. 

"Darling," Alastor purred like he had in the kitchen, this time very pointedly and specifically to watch Angel's entire body shake. The power he'd claimed over the arrogant and self-assured spider, the vulnerability he commanded, was more delightful than he had words for. "Care to... _enjoy_ hell's freezing over, with me? You'll be a... test subject. An experiment. A lab rat to destroy and dissect as I please, and in return... more _pleasure_ and _pain_ than you could _dream,_ my dear." He cupped Angel's chin softly, claws just threatening the soft skin. Angel looked completely euphoric.

Alastor's free hand was extended for a shake, for which he used his restraints to wrench Angel's hand close but didn't force him to take. "Make it a deal, if you wish. Or this will not be offered a second time." He smirked, his eyes wild. His heart was racing in anticipation, even while part of his mind questioned if Angel would be trusting- or naive- enough to agree.

He was barely finished speaking when Angel clasped his hand, his mismatched eyes frenzied in desperation. The feeling of dark magic in his veins on top of his eagerness made Alastor's head swim, and he let out snarling laughter as the deal was made official. Each of Angel's limbs was already being shackled down tightly enough that he would likely bruise, and Angel's frantic whimpers sounded like music to the carnal beast on top of him.

Angel was already so easy, and Alastor was only just getting started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really plan to make this spicy anywhere, not gonna lie! It was supposed to be fluffy!   
> But it's 3am and that's what my mind wanted to write. I know it's kind of a fast development, but I'm gonna see if I can return to the fluff and blend the two as we continue. I had a lot of fun writing this though!!  
> Opinions- does anyone wanna see anything special with these two? I'm considering trans masc Angel maybe, because I really love that headcanon/AU. Maybe also sexless Alastor?  
> Let me know your thoughts!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the read! This chapter was delightfully long and a ton of fun to write!  
> Please, as always, leave any critique you may have, I adooooore comments! And, yes, I'm hoping to get more chapters up soon!!


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